Waiting in Readiness

First Sunday of Advent Year A

Today marks the beginning of Advent – a time of expectation, a time of anticipation, preparation and longing for Christ (both His birth and His Second Coming).  But before we come to that great feast of the Nativity of our Lord, the Church invites us to cast our vision into the future, to the very End. That’s the paradox of Advent, before we reexamine and consider how it all began, we need to consider how the whole story of humanity, in fact of the universe, would eventually end. You may have heard this advice before: sometimes things gets worse, in fact it has to hit rock bottom, before it gets any better.

The world in which we live is in a time of anticipation. A world where we are still searching and anticipating a cure to cancer, an antidote to war, a solution to the problem of evil and suffering. Despite years of technological advancement and research, social, economic and political experiments, successes and failures, we are nowhere near to finding a perfect solution to everything. Yes, our world is incomplete and it waits with eagerness for that completion, for that perfection, for that great closure to all the open ended issues we are still facing.   

For us Christians, we believe our human history did not begin with the Big Bang or the first spark of evolution, and neither will it end in global annihilation with every life snuffed out, either by nuclear holocaust or destruction wreaked by catastrophic climate change. No, we Christians, believe that both our beginning and ending is to be found in God. If we believe in a God whose creation is good; a God whose goal for the world is to usher in a new kingdom of peace – A kingdom where the lion lies next to the lamb, where weapons of death are remolded into instruments which will bring forth food from the earth.  Then we are right to expect something more; to wonder aloud “there has got to be more to life than this.” 

Today’s first reading from Isaiah speaks about this anticipation.  Like Isaiah, we live in an age and in a society where God’s priorities are irrelevant to most people: but Isaiah reminds us of the big picture – reminds us what God is doing in His creation, whether we acknowledge it or not. Our lifetime is just the blink of an eye in God’s eternity, and Isaiah invites us to look up, to see beyond our limited view of the world, to see God’s purpose and God’s action. Isaiah is given a prophecy concerning Jerusalem. Jerusalem was never the formidable city on a hill with secure walls, attracting pilgrims from all over the world.  Instead, Jerusalem and Mount Zion were physically unimpressive; the very symbol of insignificance on the world’s map.  Yet, God designates this insignificant place to be “established as the highest of the mountains”, its light provides an orientation point for all nations and it will become the epicentre of God’s instruction which would bring about peace on earth. All the nations of the world will stream to it, to worship God in His Temple, to know His ways and to walk in His paths. It will be a time of justice and peace, a time of total fulfilment for all. No swords, only ploughshares.

The power of Isaiah’s prophecy is that he reveals that God is on our side.  God is committed to bringing peace.  God is willing and able to use seemingly insignificant and unimpressive things to correct the course of the world.  Nothing embodies this message more than the Incarnation – God coming to earth in the form of a fully-human infant, born in a barn in an insignificant town, living a life of service to others, giving his life on our behalf and at our hands, yet remaining fully God. Indeed, the mountain of the Lord is not a place, or an object, or even the Temple made up of stones, but a person, our Lord Jesus Christ. For in Jesus Christ, the true “mountain of the Lord,” the One to whom we go up to, so that “He may teach us His ways,” the One who “will wield authority over the nations and adjudicate between many peoples.”

If in the Old Testament first reading, the prophet Isaiah gives us a message of anticipation, of hope and fulfilment, of peace and light, St Paul, in the second reading gives a reminder that seems stern and firm and just a little bit grim. And we haven’t even gotten to the gospel yet. There, our Lord’s message is positively doom-laden and threatening. But read together, both the New Testament epistle and the gospel which actually describes the situation just before the End, whereas it is the Old Testament that actually gives us a glimpse of how things would actually end. How do we understand this tension between the fabulous vision of hope and the sometimes depressing and challenging situation of our times? In a way, the readings remind us that the Kingdom established by Christ is “already” here, He established it 2000 years ago, but the completion of His project and mission will only be accomplished when He returns, and therefore the Kingdom is also a “not yet.” In Advent we remember the anticipation of Christ’s first coming, as well as His promised return. 

It is true that we live in a time of anticipation.  But it is also a time of active participation.  This is not a passive anticipation, but an active participation.  We are actively participating in the kingdom of God which is already here but not yet complete. Christian waiting, Advent waiting, does not mean that we just sit around, hapless, whilst doing nothing. We must allow our lives to be shaped by our Lord and His teaching.  What exactly does a life shaped by His teaching look like?  Well, we just read how the apostle Paul would answer that question.  He gives us a list of don’ts: “no drunken orgies, no promiscuity or licentiousness, no wrangling or jealousy.” Of course the list is not exhaustive. But more than just avoiding sin, St Paul is trying to tell us to live positively. He says, “let your armour be the Lord Jesus Christ.” What St Paul is trying to tell us is that we should not just rely on ourselves to find the power and energy to faithfully live out God’s commands every minute of our lives. Righteous and virtuous living would never be possible without God’s grace – it is with Christ as our shield, our helmet, our armour, that we can face every battle with temptation and come out victorious. Apart from Him, we are sitting ducks, destined for failure.

As we live in this “in-between time” and anticipate Christ’s birth and return, we must constantly be vigilant, living prayerfully and righteously in anticipation for His return. Our Lord warns us to be ready for what He calls ‘the coming of the Son of Man’. This means not just an event in the future, but also His continual presence with us, even now, though we often fail to recognise Him. In the days of Noah, people went about their ordinary business unaware of the judgement hanging over them. They were quite unprepared for the flood, which came and swept them all away. In a similar way, the coming of the Son of Man is a crisis hanging over us, but a far more important one. Some will be ready for it, some will not. That’s the heart of it: being ready, prepared. You never know when the burglar will break in.

All the time the Son of Man is coming to us. He is present with us, and all the time we are being challenged to accept or reject Him. Advent is the time when we think about this especially, when we try to open our lives to His coming, to the inflowing of His love and forgiveness. It is a time when we strive to accept the good and reject the bad, so that we become more and more like the Son of Man and share in His life. For “the mountain of the Lord” to “wield authority over the nations”, it must have authority over us. Christ must be our king, and we must submit to Him. We must put away sin, allow Him to “teach us His ways, so that we may walk in His paths.”  “O House of Jacob, let us walk in the Light of the Lord.” 

Where God is honoured, not man

Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

Recently, I’ve been following a Taiwanese miniseries playing on the HBO Channel – The Teenage Psychic. I know – the name sounds “cheesy” and the plotline, perhaps, even ‘cheesier’. The protagonist is a teenage school girl, who also happens to work as a temple medium, a psychic who communicates with the spirit world. In its second season, we are witnessing a growing rivalry between our heroine’s guardian and care-giver, and his techno-savvy brother, both of them owners and operators of temples based on entirely different philosophies – the former runs a conventional traditional temple dedicated to a pantheon of Taoist deities and his techno-savvy younger brother operates a digital age New Age Spirituality centre – no stuffy incense smoke nor scary effigies – a modern religion for the modern man.

The rivalry between the two brothers escalates when one of the disciples of the former, the brother with the traditional temple, chooses to defect to his brother’s camp. When questioned by the younger brother on the reason for his defection, the disciple says that he wishes to move on with the times. The techno-savvy brother makes this poignant point by explaining the fundamental difference between his centre and his brother’s temple. He writes the Chinese character for ‘god’ or ‘deity’ and explains that in his brother’s more traditional temple, it is the gods who are honoured, the gods who are placated and it is the gods who matter. But in his popular and modern set-up, after writing the character for ‘man,’ he explains that the success of his enterprise is due to the fact that people are at the centre – “We cater to people’s needs, to their wants. The gods have nothing to do with it.”

This astute observation is why we are celebrating today’s feast. The Feast of Christ the King, originally celebrated on the last day of October, was established by Pope Pius XI in 1925 as an antidote to secularism; a way of life where man believes himself to be at the centre, which leaves God out of his thinking and living and organises his life as if God did not exist. In Quas Primas, the encyclical of Pope Pius XI that established this feast, the venerable pope noted that “the majority of men had thrust Jesus Christ and his holy law out of their lives; that these had no place either in private affairs or in politics.” In the aftermath of what was called the Great War, society found itself on the brink of disaster. Most predominantly Catholic countries had fallen under anti-Catholic secularist regimes. Christian Europe could no longer claim to be Christian as a consequence of the widespread destruction engineered and inspired by the French Revolution and later by the Enlightenment. Orthodox Christian Russia had fallen under the Bolsheviks and their communist ideology. What united all these states and their governments was their common belief and conviction that the political and economic solutions they offered actually catered to the needs and wants of the people. God or Christ have nothing to do with it.

This, of course, is contrary to what the Church teaches. Pope Pius XI writes that “as long as individuals and states refused to submit to the rule of our Saviour, there would be no really hopeful prospect of a lasting peace among nations. Men must look for the peace of Christ in the Kingdom of Christ.” There can be no real peace or salvation, if God is not part of the equation.

Unfortunately, there are so many who reject the kingship of our Lord Jesus Christ because it seems outdated and alien. We live in a democratic age, and democracy, for all of its strengths, can also make people deaf to the language of faith. Alexis de Tocqueville, the famous French political historian, described the difference between democratic man, and all of human history before the democratic age, as the difference between “two distinct humanities.” Democratic man instinctively distrusts any form of inequality, privilege or hierarchy. All legitimacy in a democracy flows from the sovereign individual and the state he helps create. But the Church makes a very different claim. The Church humbly recognises that her authority, indeed her very existence, flows not from human machinations and projects but mystically from the very side of our Crucified and Risen Lord, who reigns supreme from the throne of His cross. 

For centuries, men have deluded themselves by thinking that they could determine their destinies apart from God. Power over the natural world, seemingly granted by science and new technology, fed human vanity and man’s illusions of security. We think that we can call the shots. This is the extent of our delusion: we want to be gods but we’re not.  We want to create ourselves and our world, but we can’t. We see God and religion as threats to our power and sovereignty and Man will not tolerate any rivals. What we forget is that one little virus, one drunk driver, one “freak” accident, is all it takes to end our plans.

Unfortunately, the idea of man dethroning God is not just exclusive to a secular unbelieving world. Many within the Church today, in their quest to make the Church more relevant and trendy, have chosen to dethrone Him by placing man at the centre of religion. Just like the point made by the techno-savvy guru in the miniseries, God is no longer honoured, God is no longer placated, God is no longer pleased. It is easy to give in to a style of religion which is popular, a religion which claims to cater to the needs and wants of its constituents, a religion that follows and imitates the latest fad, a religion where man is at the centre. But such a religion is a false religion. A false religion is a scheme of making God available to man for man’s glory, and plans where God is dethroned and robbed of His glory. Such religion cannot save.

Such is the description given of the Antichrist in the Catechism of the Catholic Church. “Before Christ's second coming the Church must pass through a final trial that will shake the faith of many believers. The persecution that accompanies her pilgrimage on earth will unveil the “mystery of iniquity” in the form of a religious deception offering men an apparent solution to their problems at the price of apostasy from the truth. The supreme religious deception is that of the Antichrist, a pseudo-messianism by which man glorifies himself in place of God and of his Messiah come in the flesh.” (CCC 695) The thing that makes the Antichrist the Antichrist is not that he openly hates Jesus Christ — that’s a given — but that he offers a brilliant fake version of the Christian gospel. It would appear that the Church is indeed presently wrapped and blinded by this “mystery of iniquity” as she struggles with a myriad of troubles: sexual abuse, financial corruption, doctrinal relativism, homosexuality, threats of schisms and heresies and the doubts of the faithful who see the Church’s enemies even in their midst.

Man-made and man-centred religions always seek to reach salvation through human effort. In his hubris, man believes that he can save the world without any assistance from God. But true Christianity preaches, “May it never be that I should boast, except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world” (Gal. 6:14). Here at the cross, we see both a wondrous and scandalously mind-boggling coronation. The cross strips us of our pride and puts all our hope in the merits of the Saviour. In Him alone, the One who reigns from the throne of the cross, will we find our hope and salvation. And so, despite the violence of the attacks that the Church must continue to weather, she will not die. That is the promise of the Lord, and His words are infallible. If we wish to weather the storm, we must “bend the knee” to the King of Kings. We must renew our devotion. We must never cease to pray and cry out to God in supplication for the Church, her shepherds and the world. We must attest once again through our prayers, our deeds, our very being, that our sole purpose is to honour God and please Him, not man. Long Live Christ the King!

Never tire of doing what is right

Thirty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

I know that this will sound like a rant but I’m going to start off with a rant. So bear with me. I know that many of you can connect with my frustration if you’ve experienced something similar. You go out on a limb, beyond the call of duty, you sincerely wish to help the other, and instead of gratitude, you get flak. You look around for some support and understanding, and you find yourself all alone. You begin to wonder, “Is it worthwhile being good? “Does it pay to do good?”  Well, St Paul gives us the answer: “My brothers and sisters, never grow tired of doing what is right.” (2 Thess. 3:13).

The simplicity of that advice is quite striking. St Paul is wise in recognising the fragility of our resolutions, the wearing down and wearing out of our good intentions in the abrasiveness of daily living and the prevalence of apathy. He understands that it is hard work being good and doing good, especially when all the odds are against us, when there is little appreciation shown by others but instead, we face opposition at every turn, especially when we are attempting to do what is right. But that’s the advice given by St Paul, which is his advice to the Thessalonians in today's second reading and it is strangely and unfortunately missing from the lectionary.

It actually takes the virtue of courage and patience to stick to what is right over time. Courage in putting up with the hassle, bustle, the inertia, and all the various frustrations of life, with a determined, strong-minded, never slacking perseverance. We Christians see this virtue as a divine gift coming from God and not from ourselves. It flows from the divine gift of Hope.  Hope in God and trust in the active presence of the risen Christ and His Holy Spirit; in the gifts of the sacraments, the Scriptures, the whole Christian life and in the Church. Although Christian Hope finds its fulfilment in the future, its dynamic is a matter of the here and now, of the present, although not yet “on earth as it is in heaven.” The hope and joy of the kingdom exists here and now, but sometimes it does seem to get blurred especially when we are confronted with the present realities which seem hopeless.

If the Church is indeed a “sign” of hope, how come it doesn’t feel like it these days? Our Church has been wracked with so many controversial headlines in the news, the scandalous clergy sexual abuse, claims of financial mismanagement and even misappropriation, we seem beset by news of so many worrying developments in Rome and elsewhere, we are most aware of the partisan infighting among the Church hierarchy and wonder whether any of the criticisms, accusations of heresy and schism have some bearing of truth. When the anchor of our faith and hope is attacked from without and within, whom or what should we turn to for guidance or direction?

Today’s gospel is an important reminder that our chaotic and troubled times are not something unique. We’ve been here before, more times than we can remember or imagine. The passage begins with some people admiring the beauty of the Jerusalem temple.  The majesty of the architecture and the stonework of the House of God is praised.  But like the prophet Jeremiah, before him the Lord prophesies that “not a stone will be left upon a stone” (which is a reminder that this is not to be the first time the temple would be reduced to rubble), Our Lord goes on to foretell of wars and the violence and civil unrest which will take place in the coming decades. The Temple will be destroyed by the Romans in A.D. 70.

The destruction of the Temple, the religious centre and most important icon of the Jewish faith, felt like the end of the world. The disciples of our Lord and the early Christians felt this way too. No wonder the disciples, who must have been shocked with our Lord’s prophecy, proceeded to ask Him how they can tell when this is about to happen. However, the way they put the question reveals that they are under the misconception that the destruction of the Temple happens at the end of the age. Our Lord begins to clear up their misunderstanding by explaining that the destruction of the Temple and the end of the age are in fact two separate events. There are going to be wars and rumours of wars, natural and man-made catastrophes and people are going to claim it is the end of the world and that He is coming, but they are all going to be wrong—every single last one of them. Those aren’t signs of the end. If anything, they are signs of the beginning of a new age, the Christian era, not its ending.

Actually, when you think about it, if wars and rumours of wars, cataclysmic catastrophes are signs of anything, they are just signs of business as usual. There has never been a time without wars and catastrophes somewhere. You might as well say that the end of the age will happen on any day which appears on the calendar. Every single time there is news of this and that, with so many speculating that THIS  is the end of the world, but it always turns out that it isn’t. In fact, before we even get near the end of the age, there is going to be a time of persecution. The Church throughout the centuries remains a persecuted Church. Throughout human history, there is going to be suffering, disease, dislocation, intolerance, persecution, natural disasters, schisms, heresies, wars, and all sorts of unpleasantness, but unfortunately, that is the human condition from which our Lord redeems us, it is not a sign of the end.

So our Lord is pleading with us today to persevere in the faith, even in the midst of all the terrible calamities. He is telling us to expect this as part of life. “When disaster strikes, don't give up! When the world seems to be on the verge of collapse, don’t panic! And when everything within the Church seems to have gone mad, it doesn’t mean it’s the End– well, not yet, at least, not for now! What’s important - keep My Word; the Kingdom of God will come in its fullness; nothing can defeat God's purposes; no evil force can ultimately thwart God's plan for your fulfillment.” The key is to cling to your faith no matter what – “Your endurance will win you your lives!” Your life is like a small boat being tossed about in a great storm, there’s bound to be turbulence. You have to ride out the storm, and the best way to get through it without falling overboard is to cling to the mast—Jesus Christ. This too is what Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI wishes to convey to us, “Being an 'Adult' means having a faith which does not follow the waves of today's fashions or the latest novelties. A faith which is deeply rooted in friendship with Christ, is adult and mature. It is this friendship which opens us up to all that is good and gives us the knowledge to judge true from false, and deceit from truth.”

In these disconsolate days, Christ calls us now, in our time, to become courageous and patient and faithful bearers of hope and joy. The Christian vision does not deny the reality of evil, of brokenness, of suffering and sorrow, and the fragility of goodness. But we should not fall prey to hopelessness and resign ourselves to doing nothing. We should not let life’s difficulties cause us to give up and put us on the sidelines. Christians are to avoid Utopian dreams on the one hand and cynical despair and weariness on the other. The vast majority of “doing good” happens not in the limelight to be celebrated by thousands, but in the private, unobserved place where God’s kingdom goes forward and eventually turns the world upside down. Doing good is not like the flash and sizzle of fireworks, but the slow, organic growth of a sapling into a tree.  As disciples of the Lord we are called not only to confront evil and even to suffer under it, but also to curtail its power; and to cherish signs of life and light and love and help them to flourish. As St Paul reminds us, “my brothers and sisters never grow tired of doing what is right.”